THE TIME-TURNER
The room was quiet, the only sound being the soft flicker of the candle burning on Regulus' desk. His eyes were locked on the parchment in front of him, the letter from his father still fresh in his mind. It was rare for him to feel anything close to doubt, but this mission—this task—had him on edge. His father had made it clear: he expected results. The Dark Lord had tasked him with retrieving the time-turner, and Regulus would be damned if he failed.
He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. He couldn’t afford to waste time on distractions. The mission was too important. The time-turner was in Hogwarts, hidden somewhere in the restricted section of the library. He didn’t have all the details yet, but Regulus knew where to start.
The door to their dorm creaked open, and Rosier stepped inside, looking like he had just come from one of his usual rounds with his friends. Regulus didn’t bother to look up at first, his thoughts still running through the details of his father’s letter.
“You’re brooding again, aren’t you?” Rosier said, his voice a mix of amusement and concern. “You’ve been in here for hours. What’s on your mind?”
Regulus let out a quiet sigh, leaning forward and folding his hands. He glanced up at Rosier, his friend since they were children, the same friend he’d spent years learning from and trusting implicitly. Rosier was one of the few people Regulus actually felt he could rely on—his loyalty to the Dark Lord, while unquestioned, was still something Regulus understood as a shared path.
“It’s the mission,” Regulus finally said, his voice low but steady. “Father sent me a letter. He told me how to get the time-turner.”
Regulus took a deep breath, steadying himself. He knew the gravity of what he was saying—knew the risk involved in even discussing it. “It’s in the restricted section of the library. According to the letter, my father’s been working with some inside sources, and the mole has hidden it in there. I need to get my hands on it quietly, without anyone noticing.”
Rosier remained silent for a moment, the wheels in his mind turning. “Well, that’s bloody dangerous, isn’t it?” He sat down on Regulus’s bed, his tone thoughtful. “But I don’t doubt you’ll manage it. You’re always good at getting what you need.”
Regulus gave a small, sharp nod. He paused, glancing toward the door again as if expecting someone to burst in at any moment. The war had changed everything. Even within their own ranks, there were eyes and ears watching. Regulus wasn’t willing to risk anything, not even in the privacy of their own room. “That’s why I’m telling you, Rosier. I need you to be careful who you talk to. We can’t trust anyone outside of this room right now. Not even the other Death Eaters. Not unless we’re sure they’re loyal.”
Rosier leaned forward, his face serious now, no hint of the usual playful edge in his voice. “I get it. Don’t worry. I’m not a bloody fool. I know what’s at stake.” He gave a small smirk, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “But I bet you already know what to do. You always know the way.”
Regulus gave him a sharp look. “I do. And you’re right. I’ve got a plan.”
Rosier’s gaze softened, a knowing look passing between them. “Well then, what’s the plan, mate?” he asked, clearly eager for the next step. He trusted Regulus with his life—there was no question about it.
Regulus took a deep breath. He could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on him, but he wasn’t about to back down. He wouldn’t let this slip away, not when they were this close. “Slughorn,” Regulus said, his voice steady. “I’ll go to Slughorn. I'm his favorite student. I’ll get him to write me an authorization to access the restricted section. If I play it right, he’ll give it to me without a second thought.”
Rosier chuckled, clearly amused. “You do have a way with him, don’t you? The old fool would give you anything if you butter him up just right.”
“I’m not buttering him up,” Regulus replied with a smirk of his own. “I’m just making sure he knows where his best interests lie."
...
The following evening, Regulus made his way to Slughorn’s office. He wasn’t nervous—he had done this many times before. Slughorn had always favored him. The professor saw Regulus as a bright, dedicated student, and Regulus had always used that to his advantage. He knew exactly how to flatter the man into getting what he needed.
When he entered the office, Slughorn was behind his desk, looking through a collection of notes. His face lit up when he saw Regulus.
“Ah, Regulus! My prize pupil! What can I do for you, my boy?” Slughorn’s voice boomed with enthusiasm, his large belly shaking slightly as he smiled.
Regulus gave him a polite smile in return, maintaining a calm and composed demeanor. “Professor Slughorn, I’m working on a special research project for my independent studies—specifically a potion—but I’ve hit a bit of a dead end. I was hoping you could help me gain access to the restricted section of the library. I’m sure the information in there will be crucial to my research."
Slughorn’s eyes sparkled. “A potion, eh? Fascinating subject! Of course, of course, Regulus! You’ve got such a brilliant mind. I’m sure you’ll do great things with this project.”
Regulus inwardly smirked at how easily the professor was falling into his trap. “I would be most grateful, Professor. I’m sure I’ll make you proud with the work I produce.”
Slughorn chuckled, clearly pleased by the flattery. “I’m sure you will, my boy. I’ll just write you a note. You’re one of the few students I’d trust with this sort of thing. Here you go.” He scribbled something quickly on a piece of parchment and handed it to Regulus. “That should get you through Madam Pince without a problem.”
Regulus accepted the note, his heart pounding with excitement. “Thank you, Professor. I won’t let you down.”
Slughorn beamed. “I have no doubt. You’re going to do great things, Regulus. You always do.”
Regulus left the office with the note in hand, his mind already racing through the next steps. The time-turner was within his reach. That night, as Regulus walked back to the dorms, he felt a sense of satisfaction. He had the note. He had Slughorn’s favor. Now all he had to do was find the time-turner.
...
The following day, Regulus made his way to the library, his heart quickening with anticipation. With the note from Slughorn in hand, he walked confidently up to Madam Pince, who was sitting at her desk, her glasses perched on the edge of her nose. She barely looked up as he handed her the note, and after a cursory glance, she nodded.
"Go ahead, Mr. Black," she said in her usual, no-nonsense tone.
Regulus passed through the door leading into the restricted section. Once inside, he was immediately struck by how different it felt from the rest of the library. The shelves were cramped, the air thick with ancient dust, and a strange sense of secrecy hung in the room. Regulus hesitated for a moment, unsure where to start. He had no idea exactly where the time-turner might be hidden.
He began skimming the shelves, pulling out old tomes on time manipulation, forgotten history, and arcane spells. Hours passed in silence, each book more obscure than the last. He had hoped the task would be easier, but it quickly became clear that the time-turner wasn’t something anyone could just stumble upon. The book titles were vague, and many of the texts were written in languages that even Regulus had trouble deciphering. None of the books seemed to offer any immediate clues.
Regulus felt frustration creeping up, but he couldn’t afford to waste time. He knew this was his only chance. As he pulled another dusty volume from the shelf, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention. It was a faint glimmer, hidden between two thick, worn books. Regulus paused, his heart racing slightly. The glimmering wasn’t from a cover—there was something underneath the stack of books.
He stepped closer, his fingers brushing over the spines, and then carefully moved the top books aside. There, wedged between the shelves and barely noticeable, was a small, worn leather-bound book. It was barely visible unless you knew exactly where to look. Regulus held his breath as he pulled it free. The book’s edges were frayed, and its cover was almost entirely blank, save for a few faint runes etched into the surface.
As he flipped through the pages, Regulus quickly realized this wasn’t a typical book—it contained records of magical objects, some lost to history. Toward the back, hidden within the pages, he found a diagram and a brief description. It referenced an ancient time-turner—one far more powerful than any other, capable of traveling years, not hours. It was this very object he had been sent to retrieve.
The text described its hidden location in cryptic terms: "Behind the Veil of Time, beneath the eyes of history’s gatekeeper, lies the key to the past." Regulus frowned, staring at the words. It wasn’t immediately clear what it meant, but he knew it was a reference to the shelf that held the time-turner—if the book was correct.
He glanced around quickly. The shelves were packed tightly with books on magic, and the space behind them seemed to stretch on forever. He started muttering the incantation quietly under his breath, a charm he’d learned from his father’s old tomes. Nothing happened. He tried again, his eyes narrowing in concentration. After several failed attempts, he finally felt the faint tug of magic and watched as the shelves before him shifted, just slightly.
A hidden compartment revealed itself, tucked deep within the wall of books. Inside, there it was—the time-turner. The object was concealed within a small alcove, wrapped in layers of protective enchantments. It took Regulus a few more tries to disable the wards, his fingers brushing over the faintly glowing symbols etched around the alcove. The time-turner was well-hidden, and Regulus felt a surge of accomplishment as he carefully took it from its hiding place.
The object was cold to the touch, its surface gleaming with a faint golden hue. He slid it quickly into his robe pocket, glancing over his shoulder before he turned to leave. There was no time to waste—he needed to get out before anyone noticed it was gone.
The note had worked, and now the time-turner was his.
Back in the privacy of his dorm room, Regulus closed the door softly behind him, making sure it was locked. He let out a slow breath, turning the key in his hand as he placed it on his desk. His fingers lightly brushed over the time-turner in his pocket as he sat down. With careful precision, he pulled it out and set it before him.
The golden object gleamed in the soft light of his room, its hourglass shifting slightly in a way that made Regulus’ stomach flip. He looked at it, his expression softening with quiet pride. His hand rested on the time-turner, and for a moment, he simply stared at it, mesmerized by its beauty.
Then, as his curiosity got the better of him, he reached out and gently ran his finger over the delicate engravings. He traced the runes on the frame, marveling at how intricate they were. The symbols were foreign to him—something beyond what he'd studied in Hogwarts’ standard curriculum. As his fingers danced across the markings, a soft, sudden click echoed in the room. Regulus froze, his breath catching in his throat.
The time-turner shimmered briefly before a wave of magic pulsed through the air. His heart raced as the room seemed to warp around him. The golden object glowed more brightly now, and for a split second, Regulus saw his own reflection staring back at him, his face etched with both surprise and awe. His grip tightened around the time-turner, and before he could fully process the sensation, he felt the room shift.
Regulus gasped as the world blurred, and everything around him seemed to bend—time itself seemed to bend. He hadn't meant to activate it, but now he had.
The world around Regulus spun wildly, blurring into a dizzying spiral of colors and sounds. His hands gripped the time-turner tighter as his heart pounded in his chest, but it was too late to stop it. For a moment, everything felt as though it was being pulled from beneath him, and then—suddenly—the spinning stopped.
Regulus blinked hard, his surroundings coming into sharp focus. His bedroom was exactly as he had left it—his bed, his desk, the familiar view from his window. Yet, something felt... off. The air seemed different, heavier somehow, and the silence of the room was too still, too expectant.
He looked around, feeling the unease settle in his stomach. His heartbeat quickened as he rose from the bed, the same feeling of something not quite right settling over him. The faint sound of voices reached his ears, and as he stepped toward the door, he could hear the unmistakable sounds of students talking loudly in the hallway.
Regulus paused. Students? The voices weren’t the usual group he was used to hearing, and as he crept toward the door, something nagged at him. The voices grew louder.
"... Honestly, I don't care what anyone says, Hagrid's still the worst professor Hogwarts has ever had."
Regulus furrowed his brows in confusion. Who—?
He opened the door slightly, peering out into the corridor. His eyes fell on three students—none of whom he recognized. A boy with white-blond hair, two large students following behind him. The boy was wearing a cast in his arm, chatting with his friends. He looked so... familiar, but Regulus could not place him.
The boy stopped as he caught sight of Regulus in the doorway. His eyes narrowed, and Regulus could see the suspicion flicker across the stranger’s face.
“What are you doing in here?” the boy asked, his tone cold. “This is my room, mate.”
Regulus blinked, his thoughts racing. “What are you talking about? This is my room.” He stepped further into the corridor, now fully aware that something was terribly wrong.
The boy’s face twisted in disbelief. “What? Are you mad? This room’s been mine for the past three years. I don’t know who you think you are, but you’ve got no right to be in here. I’ll let Crabbe and Goyle deal with you if you don’t leave.”
Regulus’ chest tightened. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t his room? But he was certain this was it. The same bed, the same desk, everything was as he remembered. Confusion churned in his gut, and he realized, with a sudden sharpness, that the boy’s accent was different, the way he spoke was not the same as the Slytherins he had known.
Regulus stood still for a moment, completely at a loss. Before he could say anything else, the boy turned his back to him, speaking to his friends. “Oi, Crabbe, Goyle, get him out of here. We don’t have time for this rubbish.”
Regulus knew something had gone terribly wrong, but he couldn’t figure out why or how. His heart pounded in his chest as he stepped back, his thoughts racing.
The boy who had spoken—Regulus didn’t recognize him at all. His features were familiar, but his voice was strange. The more Regulus thought about it, the more the unease grew inside him. He backed away from the scene and walked briskly down the hall, the faces of the students now starting to blur together in his mind. He passed through the common room, his eyes scanning the unfamiliar faces of Slytherins.
They weren’t his classmates. The students in the room were all younger, their expressions unfamiliar. The room felt wrong, colder than it ever had before. Regulus felt his breath catch in his throat as he stepped farther into the room, his eyes darting from one face to the next.
He caught sight of a girl sitting near the fireplace and, desperation building, he approached her. “Excuse me,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, “What day is it?”
The girl looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “It’s February 18th, 1993,” she answered dismissively, returning to her book.
The words hit Regulus like a physical blow. 1993. He had traveled in time, but the realization crashed over him like a wave.
He stood there for a long moment, feeling dizzy as the full weight of his situation sank in. He was no longer in his time. He had somehow ended up in the future—further than he could have ever imagined. 1993. How could it be?
Regulus turned on his heel and hurried out of the common room, his heart racing. His footsteps echoed in the silent hallways as he tried to make sense of what had happened. His mind reeled with questions. How had this happened? Why had he ended up here, of all times? What was he supposed to do now?
As he left the Slytherin corridor behind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his entire world had shifted. He had traveled forward in time—and now he was in a version of Hogwarts he didn’t recognize.
Regulus was barely aware of the echoing of his own footsteps as he sprinted through the darkened hallways, his mind racing to make sense of everything. The silence around him seemed oppressive, Hogwarts' stone walls feelt alien and unsettling. He needed answers, needed to understand what had happened, but the more he thought about it, the less sense it made. He was so lost in his own thoughts, trying to piece together the chaos in his mind, that he didn't see the figure rounding the corner until it was too late.
He collided with a boy, the impact sending both of them staggering backward. Books and parchment scattered across the floor, papers fluttering around like confetti. Regulus instinctively dropped to his knees, trying to gather up the fallen items. He muttered an apology under his breath, his hands frantic as he tried to collect the scattered pages, pushing his own confusion aside.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you—here, let me help,” he said, brushing a few stray strands of hair from his face as he reached for the last of the scattered parchment.
As he handed the boy a handful of papers, Regulus looked up, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, his heart stopped. The boy was... *familiar*. He looked like James Potter—*exactly* like him. Regulus’ mind went blank for a moment, the realization striking him like a lightning bolt. He could feel the blood drain from his face as he looked at the boy before him, his mouth going dry.
"James?" Regulus whispered, barely able to contain the shock in his voice. His heart hammered in his chest, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them.
The boy blinked, raising an eyebrow at the name, before a smile tugged at his lips—*that* smile. The same mischievous, carefree smile that James Potter always wore. It made Regulus' pulse race, the connection instantaneous. But something was wrong—something didn’t add up. The boy had the same smile, but his eyes... were not James’ eyes. They were green, so strikingly green that it felt like a punch to the gut.
The boy’s grin widened slightly, and his voice, though friendly, was calm. "I'm Harry," he said, extending a hand. "Harry Potter. James is my dad."
Regulus froze. The words hit him like a physical blow, his thoughts scrambling to make sense of the situation. He couldn’t speak for a moment, just stared at the boy in disbelief. Harry Potter? *James’ son?* This couldn’t be real. The timeline, everything he knew about the world... it was all coming apart in a way he couldn’t comprehend.
The boy, Harry, seemed to notice his shock and smiled again, not quite knowing the full effect his presence had on Regulus.
"You okay there?” Harry asked, still smiling, not sensing the weight of the conversation.
Regulus blinked hard, his mind still spinning. He had so many questions—too many questions. He wanted to ask about James, how he was, what had happened to him. It felt like there was so much time between when Regulus had left, in 1978, and now. But yesterday, he had seen James—just yesterday. How was this possible? How was Harry Potter standing here, talking to him?
He knew, deep down, that he shouldn't be speaking to Harry. He shouldn’t even be here. Time travel was never supposed to involve interacting with anyone, especially not someone who was part of the future. The timeline could be irrevocably damaged. His mission could be doomed.
And yet, the curiosity gnawed at him. The pull of knowing more, of asking more about James, was overwhelming. Regulus could hardly contain himself. He wanted to know everything. He wanted to know how James was now, what his life had been like in the past years. He wanted to know how Harry had turned out, what his family was like. The questions were endless, and they clung to him like a weight.
Before he could voice any of his thoughts, a loud voice from down the hall interrupted him.
"Harry! There you are!" The voice was feminine, high-pitched but firm. A girl with curly hair appeared around the corner, followed closely by a redheaded boy. They both had the same determined look on their faces as they spotted Harry.
"Where’ve you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you!" the girl said, her voice a little breathless. "Come on, we're supposed to meet the others."
Harry looked at them, his face lighting up as he waved them off. "I’ll be there in a minute, guys," he called out to them. The girl and the boy exchanged a glance but seemed to accept the answer and moved off, their footsteps fading as they walked down the hall.
Regulus stood there, his heart pounding, torn between the urge to speak and the knowledge that he should leave before he caused any more damage. He knew what he needed to do, what was expected of him. He had to focus. He had to finish his mission. Time was slipping away, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted.
But at the same time, he couldn't shake the burning curiosity inside him. James’ son... standing right in front of him. It was a forbidden temptation, and Regulus could barely stop himself from asking more. He almost did, but he knew he couldn’t afford to linger. Not like this.
With a forced smile, he nodded to Harry, a silent acknowledgment of the strange, impossible encounter. “I—I should go,” he said quickly, his voice tight. “Good luck, Potter.”
He turned on his heel, fighting to keep the shaking of his hands at bay. He knew he shouldn’t have talked to Harry. He had to finish his mission. But first, he needed to get back to the library.